


Nothing Else Matters

by Maxii



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 11:38:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5047087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maxii/pseuds/Maxii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The destruction of Gabriel, of everything he used to be, is done in 10 steps. (The 10 Commandments).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Else Matters

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting old fic from LJ, starting with the fandom that ruined my life. Mylar.

**_Thou shall not murder._ **

Brian Davis.

 

He’s broken.

 

“I can fix it. It’s an evolutionary imperative.”

 

Gabriel ends a life, bashing the head in.

 

The man who refuses such a powerful gift, who does not deserve such power, crumples to the floor lifeless.

 

Gabriel’s tools, clothes and hands become coated in slick blood as he discovers how Brian Davis worked.

 

When the power is his, Gabriel thinks about how Chandra will be so proud of him.

 

And unlike Brian Davis, he is not broken.

 

~

**_Keep the Sabbath holy._ **

 

Chandra Suresh struggles, fights against the invisible hold, but Sylar has mastered this stolen ability.

 

It’s the same stolen ability he took for Suresh’s approval; the same ability that together, they have discovered amazing potential; it’s the ability that makes Sylar _special_.

 

If only Suresh hadn’t betrayed him.

 

He leans forward, hands on both sides of Chandra’s head, and twists with a loud snap.

 

Sylar steps out of the cab and looks down annoyed at his broken watch.

 

7 minutes to midnight on a cold Sunday night.

 

~

**_Thou shall not lie._ **

 

“Zane Taylor?”

 

The beautiful accented voice forces Sylar to pause. His eyes lock with a face he recognizes from Chandra’s pictures and descriptions from long talks over tea.

 

_But Mohinder Suresh looks even more stunning in person._

 

He adjusts the outfit of a dead man, whose part he is now playing, before answering.

 

“Yes?”  

 

This lie, this façade, is the greatest and most important of them all, and it slithers from his lips with remarkable ease.

 

~

**_Thou shall not covet._ **

 

He’s never wanted someone more then he does right now.

 

Mohinder is laughing as he recalls a story, but Sylar is barely able to listen, concentrating instead on that lean neck. The soft, luscious curls waving as Mohinder moves his head. The brown doe eyes, that dance between focusing on the road and Sylar.  He wants to take the hands gripping the steering wheel, take them and lock them above Mohinder’s head as he kisses him.

 

He wants to kiss him.

 

He wants to fuck him.

 

Then a particularly loud semi roars by, horn blasting and Sylar flinches, face twisting in pain. The sound amplifying and echoing, spins and lurches painfully in his ears, and he breathes deep to smother it.

 

“Zane, are you okay?”

 

He jerks his head up and down in reply, trying to regain his thoughts.

 

“Sorry, just the headache. You were saying?”

 

Mohinder flashes him a small look of concern, before launching into a tale about a man who somehow survived a 10,000 foot drop from a plane.

 

~

**_Thou shall not make idols._ **

 

In his hands he carries a wrinkled and folded photo.

 

After Mohinder left him, lying unconscious on the floor, Sylar had taken the monument of their Montana trip and kept it close. A smiling photo of the two of them, arm in arm, and it flaunts his past sins.

 

He should get rid of it, throw it out or burn it. It is nothing but proof of deceit.

 

But he can’t. Instead he places it gingerly in his coat pocket. 

 

The shining smile of the man whose father he killed has now become the reason he hastens to Mendez’s loft for the next step in his damnation.  

 

 

 

**_~_ **

**_Honour thy Father and thy Mother._ **

 

The scissors prod from the fragile chest, and blood pools the hardwood floor.

 

Gabriel stares at the body with no expression. He thinks he may be in shock. This was not supposed to happen.

 

He wonders what she would have said or done if he told her the true extent of his sins.

 

Then the thick, growing stain of dark crimson wavers in his vision and he blinks. There is something there, a morphing image that flickers and stirs deep within his subconscious.  

 

The impulse continues to spread; through his mind, down to his fingertips and before long, Sylar is painting the future in the cooling blood of his own Mother.  

 

~

**_Thou shall not worship any other gods._ **

 

He stands on the rooftop, hands glowing with nuclear light. Sylar eyes the city with a predatorily glint.

 

“Boom.”

 

After tonight, after he saves them all, the whole city will worship him.

 

And Mohinder will be one of them.

 

~

**_Thou shall not misuse the name of God._ **

 

He sits on the edge of motel bed, gazing absently as the television.

 

Maya and Alejandro have gone to find something to eat, giving him time to himself for once.

 

His hands stray to his abdomen, fingering the scar from where Nakamura stabbed him and his blood boils with the need for revenge.

 

But first, he has to get to New York, get his powers back with Mohinder’s help and then he can extract his vengeance.

 

At the thought of Mohinder, he goes lower, gripping himself.

 

“Oh God, _Mohinder_.”

 

He comes with Mohinder’s name spilling from his chapped lips.

 

~

**_Thou shall not steal._ **

 

He watches as Mohinder injects Maya, watches as the Cheerleader’s blood heals the wound and the bullet is pushed out from dark flesh.

 

“I’m sure Maya will understand if I’m not here when she wakes up.”

 

Sylar swipes up the case containing the last vial while Mohinder is busily staring at the blood soaked bullet, utterly fascinated. He feels a tinge of envy at the way Mohinder’s attention has shifted so easily.

 

So he moves forwards, intent on taking Mohinder with him as well. Sylar grasps the Doctor’s bicep, spinning him around. The move causes the bullet to slip from the man’s fingers and clatter to the floor, forgotten as Suresh makes a small noise of protest. The dark, beautiful face, now inches from Sylar’s, is an open invitation, twisting temptation and disregard against him. 

 

Sylar leans in and steals a kiss from the geneticist’s soft, stunned lips.

 

He is nothing and everything Sylar expected Mohinder Suresh to taste like.

 

“Sylar!”

 

A voice calls his name, and Sylar turns away, gun firing while Mohinder stumbles back in bewilderment to cower with the little girl.  

 

Sylar ends up fleeing, still powerless, sans Mohinder as well but he has the heal-anything blood.

 

And that is enough for now.

 

~

**_Thou shall not commit adultery._ **

 

 

Dark lips, hot and wet, work hungrily against Sylar’s.

 

Desperate hands fisted in his shirt pull them both down onto the edge of the bed. Heavy breath against the crook of his neck as the man beneath him moves more onto the mattress. It’s there that layers come off.

 

Sylar kisses a bare golden chest, his hands splaying on wriggling hips.

 

He closes his eyes, pausing, when he hears noises, words: Mohinder repeating Sylar’s name over and over. His voice is the enchanting call of a siren, luring Sylar to his demise.  

 

Reclaiming his name with another kiss on Mohinder’s open mouth, Sylar drags a hand over a firm ass, nudging Mohinder’s legs to shakily wrap around his waist.

 

The devil burns deep inside him, consuming like fire and darkness and it bursts from within when he thrusts into Mohinder. The man who has condemned him arches up, hands squeezing Sylar’s arms painfully tight as Mohinder gasps at the intrusion that sears them both with finality and damnation.

 

There is no logical reason to want this. There is every reason not to.  

 

He will live forever with Mohinder. His soul can wait.  

 


End file.
